Her Story
by In-essence-divided
Summary: When the dust settles, is Voldemort really as gone as all would like to believe? Powerful magic leaves marks, and Riddle's Diary certainly left a large mark on Ginny's heart.
1. The Beginnings

Prologue

While writing this story, I realized several things. I'm not the best fiction writer in the world, this story jumps a bit, is vague in some places, and too descriptive in others, and overall is an…. Interesting read. I hope you will find this as good a read as I did a write, but I should still explain it. This is set roughly a year after the epilogue, but it's written much like a memoir, or _The Titanic._ It may jump to the present in some parts, but for the most part all of the actions and adventures taking place(as far as I can tell) will happen in the past, the years between the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, and the epilogue. It will focus mostly on Harry's and Ginny's relationship(and the shocking twist that will take. DUN DUN DUUUUUN), but it is not exclusive to them. Naturally, a story with two/three characters can only last so long, so it will take a good deal of relationships outside the main two into consideration. Also, this is my first fanfiction, so I hope you enjoy. Depending on responses, I'll probably write more, sporadically until the turn-out demands regularity.

Everyone assumes our relationship is perfect. Between our children, his fame, and my acting, it's understandable why people think so, but this is certainly not the case. I'm not particularly unhappy, and Harry is ecstatic, continuously showing his affection with a pair of turtle doves appearing out of nowhere, or a bouquet he shoots from his wand. The problem with our relationship, I find, is simply that I can't feel happy with him. Our relationship is almost too story-book amazing. It's disgusting.

Whether in muggle company(at the request of his troll of a cousin), or at home in our own slices of England, a common question most asked us was our relationship became what it was today. The answer never changed: dragging me by the waist to rest my head on his shoulder, Harry would recount our school days and his summers at The Burrow, describing a slow and gradual growth that would turn into love. After his defeat of Voldemort(or after" his tour in the Middle East," he would tell muggles), we were free of the danger and began to go out without restraint or confusion. For our first official date, we walked along the beach, visiting the "grave of a loved one(Dobby)," talking through our times apart. At the end of it, we laid by a fire on the beach, and he told me that his love for everyone, especially me, was what helped see him through everything.

While I smiled and played the role of loving wife for our company, anyone looking at me would have noticed the lack of luster in my eyes. Thankfully, no one ever looked at the arm candy of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. My version is much less public, and lacks the frilly romance Harry added onto his. After the battle of Hogwarts, the mourning, and the celebrations, every dark thought, shred of despair, and hint of desperation had dissipated. Every aspect of life became richer, and every moment in life became something worth celebrating. Lost in that reverie, Harry and I embraced each other with a love and passion that seemed almost impossible for people so young. We agreed to a date, an official date, a week after everything had died down and something resembling normal.

Two months later, we met at Shell Cottage for a romantic stroll along the beach, when the sun was half way hidden by the horizon. Having spent those two months together at The Burrow, there was no major demand to ask each other what we'd been up to. There was no need to speak of pasts that entangled each other like the Diary did my heart. No real need presented itself to converse about anything at all, and our walk quickly took on the unmistakable undertones of boredom. We gabbed a little about nothing in particular; how we'd been holding up since the deaths, all the publicity he'd gotten since the Downfall, the major changes in the wizarding world that had died down since then, and even the appointment of the new headmaster. The conversation topics dwindled until we reached a few trees and decided to light a fire to protect ourselves from the chilling creep of night. Without a wand, Harry had tried in vain to ignite the branches by rubbing them together, a technique I'd never heard of. Despite his growing agitation, Harry refused to use magic, his cheeks growing a bright red, silently cursing himself for being stupid enough to forget his wand at the cottage. While he focused on the sticks, I asked to take over the task, thinking a different stick would do the trick. I walked behind a tree and pulled out my wand, hoping he hadn't noticed, and returned to rub it gently against another I'd picked. Thanking all the stars in heaven for our silent spell lessons, I lit a fire within an instant, and we sat around it, holding hands in silence.

The moment came when Harry decided to deliver his line, with all the eloquence and finesse of a nut with the tongue-tying curse put on him. " Y'know, Ginny…. It wasn't… what I'm trying to say is that it wasn't easy…. Being away from you and all. I worried about you every time I wasn't worried about being caught, and it only made me miss you. I really really wanted to bring you along, but you know that, and…. Well, y'know? You know where I'm coming from? Probably not. What I mean to say is this: if it wasn't for how much I love you, and everyone in the wizarding world, I don't know how I would have done what I did."

It was romantic, nervous, and sweet of him. It touched me to know that, to know that I was special to him, and at that moment, I'd honestly believed I'd found the man I was destined to be with, but that moment didn't last long before he decided to add more.

"Ginny, I've never felt this way about anyone before. Not even Ron. It's like part of me just wants to take everything of you into myself, and become better for it. Losing my parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, and everyone else…. No matter how much those events hurt, I realized that I need you with me, to help get through whatever time has to throw at me."

I can think of a couple million girls who'd go weak in the knees at such words, coming from the very man who saved all of England, maybe even the world. Unfortunately for him, I wasn't one of those girls. His words were romantic, to say the least, but there was something so disconcerting about them. Being compared to my older _brother, _as bad as that is, wasn't the worst of it, though. That his happiness rested on my proximity seemed almost too much. If he were to remain safe, I had to be with him 24/7, practically surrendering my independence, demoting me to nothing more than a cane for his broken psyche. The prospect was daunting, to say the least.

I also had a little difficulty understanding the "taking me into him" thing. "I want to be part of you" or something of that ilk was a popular romance line in my mum's terrible love stories, and even when the witches had made it to that part, at the end of the day they were still two separate entities, functioning as individuals with a deep love and emotional dependency that bordered on the fanatical. What he suggested seemed to be a surrendering of everything that makes him Harry, and me Ginny, becoming a blob of action and conscience relying completely on each other to have any semblance of life. Submissiveness isn't my strong suit, and I doubted that this fact would ever change; weak women never made it to be Weasleys. Strength was in my blood, going as far back as our red hair, blue eyes, or freckles. My mother blew Bellatrix Lestrange to pieces on the battlefield, our great aunt Muriel, in her ripe old age, managed to be one of the most cunning and dangerous women in the world, and somewhere down the line, the legend of one great matriarch or another who'd wrestled a troll into submission was a famous story in the family and a local legend.

My mind tumbled through these ideas, my face betraying nothing as pity and rage fought sword and shield against one another. My anger didn't shock me at all. The pity was shocking. The shock was confusing. The confusion was agonizing. The list goes on, and while pity and anger warred between themselves, these lesser emotions were in the peanut gallery, cheering them on.

All of this was lost to Harry, who continued to stare into my eyes, looking for something. In his bottle green eyes stirred something, something growing bigger and more powerful the more I stared. Emboldened by the growing power inside him, Harry decided to strike. It was not the quick and lithe attack of a Jaguar. His approach was slow and deliberate, like a snake boa coiling itself around a struggling rabbit. He lifted his hand from mine, resting it on the back of my neck, his sweaty palms struggling for grip. Angling himself accordingly, he pulled me closer, and our lips met in a rough kiss, clearly without practice or technique, almost bestial in its simplicity, and savage in its strength. His tongue slid into my mouth, where they met and wrestled for dominance, as is the case in such situations. It lasted almost two minutes, and when we separated, a ring of saliva covered three inches of skin around my mouth, while some on my skin and cheeks had been rubbed raw by his coarse and unkempt beard.

Overall, it wasn't the best kiss of my life, but it was certainly better than Dean, but not by much. Pulling away, we looked each other in the eye, him with that gooey look of absolute devotion, and me with stark curiosity. In his eyes was something more than lust, love, belonging, protection, or anything to expect after kissing the woman you love. There was something more…. More than Harry. It was fleeting, but a flash of crimson appeared deep in those green eyes, gone before Ginny could properly wonder about its existence.

My curiosity faded, heading back to the cottage to Apparate back to the burrow shortly after the kiss. Hermione would pester me for details, which I'd happily confess in the gooey, love-struck way of teenage girls, despite how hopelessly fake they were. Well after midnight, when mum had shooed her away, I laid in my bed, staring at the ceiling, conscious of the fact that Harry laid jut feet above me. And feeling nothing about that. Instead, my mind wandered to the flash of crimson, ultimately dismissing it as the fire's reflection on his glasses. With that in mind, I rolled over, feeling a little put-off by a simple trick of the light.


	2. Now and Forever

_Prologue: In my opinions this chapter isn't as good as the First. In some parts it's better, in others it blows. I hope you'll like reading it as much as I liked writing it. There may be a new chapter on Thursday or Friday(my goal is to update this at least semi-regularly, but I'm terrible with deadlines, so that may be a bit of a problem). At the very latest, you can expect a new chapter on Sunday. Also, feel free to comment on how I could write it better. I have an idea of how I want it to go, but I'll also accept advice and criticism. Without further ado, here's the new chapter. _

Chores. This whole summer, since the funerals at Hogwarts, had been spent with chores and nothing but. While I hated chores, and would indiscriminately set piles of laundry ablaze in my mind, they were welcome distractions from everything, which I think was mum's main plan. After the funeral, when Death Eater and Dumbledore's Soldiers were buried, mum's spirits had drained from her, working with the same mindless duty as an inferi. The chores I could handle, but watching her waste away as she had was beyond unbearable. It was more than a personal change though. She had started looking like a different person altogether. This mum substitute had lost her anger, becoming detached from the world, no longer fussing about everything. Her hair had lost its red luster, and it seemed to be turning a murky brown. Her skin had started to sag as she lost her plump motherly figure. In a few months she had aged a number of years, and didn't seem to care.

George was no better off. No one in our family understood what it was like to have a twin, but the sympathy pains when one was scolded gave us enough of an idea to guess how it felt. It must have been unbearable, to feel the one person in the world that knows you as well as you know yourself completely disappear. In the past two months, George had gone through a shocking change of character, losing the happiness that would keep the chandeliers unstable, and my mother alive. More than once, he'd considered selling the store, and subsequently changing his mind, but never returning. Without the twin's antics, and my mother's energetic responses, our house had become deathly silent; Azkaban seemed like a cheerier place than The Burrow. It was this glum mood that had, thankfully, postponed all of the dates Harry and I could have gone on, and although it pained me to see people I loved so much in such a terrible mood, I was thankful for the distractions. All of that flew out the window when Harry told everyone at the table, my entire family and several close friends, that we'd be going out for our second date in a few days.

Everyone had perked up at the news. It wasn't because they were happy to hear it, but simply because they were shocked to hear it was our second. They weren't the only ones. Harry had undertaken this venture of his own accord, leaving me to shoulder just as much blame(if not more), knowing the shock and pain it would have caused Mum and Fred. While they wallowed in the losses, the rest of us were moving on, and that knowledge would have sunk them further into this depression they simply couldn't get out of. That was my thought, and I was hopelessly wrong.

"Second?" Mum asked her voice raspy and deep without use.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley. Second. I'm sorry to have kept this from you, but we didn't want to overburden you." Harry replied, his voice shaky and nervous.

"So, these past few weeks, whenever you and Ginny were traipsing around, not a care in the world, you'd been courting my daughter? Right under my nose and without my consent?" A rising anger pervaded her tone, but more than that. There was life. Happiness, Anger, shock, guilt, every emotion she'd left buried under the surface bubbled over and finally gave my mother life in a fiercely growing typhoon of essence.

"I really am sorry, Mrs. Weasley. With everything that-"

"Don't give me that crock, Harry! This is wonderful news and you've been keeping it from me for how long?"

Sense evaded me at the mention of "wonderful news." I'd enjoyed the anger above all else. It meant that this fake relationship, every fake moment of love and lust between us would be coming to an end, and I'd finally be free of our awkward moments of adoration. Mum being happy threw a serious wrench in my plans. I looked at Harry, a stupid grin plastered to his face, thinking _Looks like I'm stuck with him. _

"This is wonderful news indeed, if only you hadn't kept it from me. I suppose I should have noticed , but oh well. Goes to show how much I've noticed around here." Mum looked down at her lap, eyes clouding over once more as she contemplated the chicken on her plate.

The evening continued without astray word or thought on the subject, and I was thankful for the reprieve, hoping this would continue for the rest of my existence. Unfortunately, this wouldn't be the case if my mother had anything to say about it. She creeped into my room silently, while I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.

"Ginny…. We need to talk." The words no person wants to hear, especially from their mom.

"Yes mum?"

"You and Harry….. have you done anything yet?" She shifted her weight from one foot to the next, her eyes reflecting mine, reflecting on her question.

"No, mum. And I don't know how much I really want to." the thought of sex had crossed my mind many times (more often than healthy in some instances), but the thought of Harry and me having sex was about as appealing as a dead baby nailed to a board. It was repulsive by any sense.

"I want you to know, should you feel the urge, it's natura-"

"Mum! Let's stop right there. We've talked about this… I know all about it, but I don't really want to have sex, and if I did, I wouldn't hesitate to tell you. Just spare me the lecture, please."

She took the hint, coming closer to me. Sweeping low, she kissed my forehead."I'm glad you understand, and I'm proud of both you and Harry. Whenever the time comes, I trust your judgment as a woman." She turned swiftly on her heels and walked away, leaving me blushing and awestruck.

The following day, after news of our "announcement" had settled a little, business had changed. The house had returned to a state of normalcy unheard of in the past few months. Instead of mindlessly assigning task after dreary task, mum had taken command again, bestowing praise and criticism with gusto. When she'd started scolding Ron for not drying the dishes properly, a haughty barn owl perched itself on a windowsill. Owls had been coming and going at all hours of the day, offering everything from jobs to book deals to condolences, mostly for Harry. It was unexpected to see my name on the letter the owl held. It was a shock to see the Hogwarts crest emblazoned on the other side.

_Dear Ginny Weasley,_

_ I would first like to offer my deepest sympathies for the loss of your brother._

_ I'd also like to commend you for your valiance in the battle. Your actions brought _

_ pride to the name of Weasley and Gryffindor. With that in mind, we at Hogwarts wish_

_ to extend a formal invitation to you for your final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft_

_ and Wizardy. The Ministry and the school have agreed that the education of young wizards_

_ cannot go inhibited by events as they have progressed. While not mandatory, it is our hope_

_ that you will return to the school with the best intentions. Enclosed you will find the year's_

_ required text and supplies, as well as your ticket for the Hogwarts Express. _

_ Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonnegal_

_ Headmistress_

I read the letter and supply list thrice over, finally giving it to my mum for verification. Satisfied that the letter was real, mum and I looked at each other.

"After everything? Doesn't this seem a little sudden?" Mum's face creased, worry etching itself into her reborn visage.

"Mum, this is the best thing that could happen. We need to be strong in our determination to not let this stop us. We can do it, as wizards, witches, werewolves, and Weasleys. It's in our blood." I was fighting tooth and nail to go back. I longed for nothing more than the cold corridors and passing ghosts, for the silence of an after-hours jaunt about the grounds or the bustle of the Great Hall. More than anything, I wanted an escape. I wanted to be free of the Burrow, of the chores, the constant reminder that Fred was gone, but more importantly I wanted to be without Harry wherever I went. The wounded puppy routine was getting very old, very fast.

Mum eyed me up and down, the familiar feeling of mind-probing settling in under her stern gaze. "If that's what you want, I won't stand in your way. I expect a letter every week."

My heart exploded from my chest. I ran outside, deeper and deeper into the fields surrounding my childhood home, and I screamed in delight, a savage declaration of glee and love chasing away my every doubt and insecurity. I was going back. I was getting to finish things the way they should be. I was going to be free.

The next day, mum and I went to Diagon Alley. The celebrations had died down, but posters and glitter still hung from every surface not dominated by a witch or wizard. Our time together was a bliss unlike any I'd ever felt. Between the bonuses for book deals, the raise my father had gotten at work, and the fact that I was the last and only one to go back to school, my supplies were no longer the cheap hand-me-downs of my revolting brothers. My books were new, robes cleanly trimmed and pressed, and my every supply something from a dream.

The business of our visit even ebbed into pleasure. After all of my demands were met, we walked into a small restaurant off a side street, indulging in rich and indescribable delicacies I could only hope to taste in another life. We topped it off with a nice ice cream from Florene Fortescue's. The day was heaven, and we sat on the patio, enjoying our ice creams.

Somewhere in our happy chattering, my mum decided to turn grave, however. "No one will think less of you for stopping this. You don't have to go, we can return everything, get the money back, or keep it until you decide to go back. If this is what you want, then I support you, but are you sure?" She placed her hand on mine, mint chocolate chip dribbling down the cone and collecting on her fingers. We looked into each others' eyes, her resolve softening as her gaze went from my hair to my freckles, and finally into my own eyes.

"Mum, I need this. I need to do this for so many reasons. I love you and Fred and everyone, but I need to go for me." We continued eating in silence, finally returning when the ice cream was gone, and our purchases were ready.

My plans to go back hadn't been known to anyone except for Mum; it seems surprises and secrets were the largest part of that summer. The day before my departure, mum planned and cooked a huge feast, inviting the whole family, even Fleur's family. After the final course, mum brought out a large cake she'd baked into the shape of a castle. This was my cue. As she lowered the cake, I stood from my seat.

"Everybody, I have an announcement. Hogwarts is reopening, and I'm returning." No one seemed to really care. George's face flashed with grim acknowledgment, but he remained silent for the most part. Ron and Hermione had been too busy staring at each other, as had Bill and Fleur. My father looked between me and my mum, who simply shook her head with a silent smile. Harry's gaze I never met, but I could feel it strong on my neck, my face, the top of my head.

"Well, zis is wonderful. Eet iz so nice to see zat zhe school iz going to continue eets fine traditions." Fleur's father spoke up. It was a blessing, lifting the gravity of this situation from my shoulders. It seemed that Monsieur Delacour had said enough, and with that, the meal finished in silence. Harry's gaze never left me, and I never returned it, but I could feel it and all of his anger behind it, his jaw working furiously as he chewed his thoughts and emotions. He had every right to be angry, but I didn't want to deal with it. This was a problem I was more than happy to put off until later. Or never. Which ever lasted longer.

Naturally, fate had conspired against me, and this problem would hit me like a bludger. It happened that night. I lay in my bed, once again staring at my ceiling and thinking of my valiant return to Hogwarts, conquering warrior princess of battle. He slinked into my room, in complete silence; it appears that creeping into my room without announcement had become a favorite pastime of every single person I don't want to deal with at _that _particular moment.

"How could you?" His voice icy, I slipped my hand under my pillow and grabbed my wand, roaring "stupify". The spell bounced off a shield charm I didn't know he had, and in the light I could see his face, angular, pale, grim, and disappointed. "Why didn't you tell me we had so little time together? Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"  
>"Lumos."A beam of light from my wand showed everything in my room, the darkness edging away from its path. His hands were in his pockets, bunched into fists, and his eyes glazed over in the beginnings of tears. It was heartbreaking. "I needed to do this. I <em>want <em>to do this. I will do this, and your opinion of my actions did not matter in my decision. With or without your approval, I was going to finish my education, and I did not see the need to burden you with this information."

Pain stabbed through his features, and his visage remained in a tortured mask of suffering. The wounded puppy, his bottle green eyes, shaggy hair, and angst, had come out to play.

"Ginny... I love you... what am I supposed to do without you? Why couldn't you tell me?"

"I know you do, and you can find ways to pass time, maybe get a job or play quidditch, I don't know. But I'm going to do this for me, indepen-"

He pushed closer, his hand on top of mine as his lips encircled my mouth in the same rough, beastly kiss as our first date. He pushed further, making me lay down on the bed, and his kiss became more urgent, his tongue attacking mine in a silent plea to stay here forever. He moved his hand from my hand to my stomach, my chest, my face. He took my lack of struggle for approval, and continued, snaking his hand underneath my nightgown until his fingers brushed the lace of my underwear.

He hooked a finger underneath and slid them off, doing the same to his own pants. Exposed and erect, his penis looked odd and amusing. Part of me wanted to poke it like a child would a strange bug, but the other part of me recognized it for what it was, and what it was about to do. Lips still together, he began to bump and grind against my pelvis, finally managing to put it in. We had sex, his penis working in and out of my vagina in a slow and steady movement. Between his hesitation, slow and halting movements, and almost unappealing attempts to please me, my most vivid memory is of his gaunt face, the effort and concentration twisting his face into a merciless scowl. It lasted for about ten minutes until things changed. He started thrusting forward with more intensity and confidence, pushing harder in deeper, throwing me into strong bits of bliss and rapture, beckoning me deeper into pure ecstasy. At that point, he removed his lips from mine, and put them on my neck, biting with shocking strength and vigor. The pleasure, the sheer and divine joy this approach had brought was unimaginable. Even in my wildest fantasies, nothing like this had happened, and it threw my vision teetering, forcing my breath in ragged gasps and moans.

He released his bite, and threw my legs on my shoulders with a strength and skill that eluded him in the beginning. I looked into his eyes, glowing like red-hot coals. I was locked, struck with the strength of his gaze and the power behind those eyes. His face smoothed, the concentration relaxing from his muscles.

"You're mine. Now and forever." It wasn't his voice. It was deep, a rich vibrato filled with lust, strength, and a cold malice that brought me over the edge. It was so different from the high, wheedling pitch so oft heard from his mouth, and it brought back memories of a love and sense of power I'd feared and adored. I looked into his eyes, my breath caught in my throat, and the climax(hopefully the first of many) came crashing around me, the beautiful timbre of that strangely familiar voice ringing in my ears as I sank deeper into the orgasm of a lifetime.

"Oh Tom," I moaned, settling into this blissful release, "I'm yours."


	3. A Sense of Normalcy

With the ecstasy of that moment slowly draining away with each bead of sweat, I began to realize a few things about myself. A) Harry and I had taken our relationship to an area I was not entirely sure was healthy and B) I really like rough sex. And I mean I REALLY liked it rough. Harry finished moments after me, spraying his load on my stomach and siphoning it away with a lazy flick of his wand.

He rolled over next to me, breathing heavily. "That.. was amazing." I lay on my side, looking at his silhouette against the light beam from my discarded wand. Everything about him had taken on the lax and gentle softness of before. There was no sign of that aggressive dominance from seconds before. While I watched the soft movements of his mouth and chest, I realized that our sex was a complete transformation for him. A transformation I was more than happy with.

"I... what do we do now? After... all that and everything?" With a slight stutter, he looked at me, his glasses fogged with the heat of my breath.

"Now you leave. I cant have my mum walking in on us and naked and sweaty under the blankets, and I have a long day ahead tomorrow."

"You're still going? After what we just did? Didn't you like it enough to stay with me?"

"I liked it. A lot, if you couldn't tell. But I'm still going to school, and that's final."

His eyes dimmed as understanding set in and he accepted the fact that great sex was not enough for me to change my mind about this, Slowly, he gathered his clothes, slipped on his boxer shorts, and padded his way to Ron's room, where he'd most likely share details about 'his' studly performance with my very own brother. In the silence that followed, I drifted off to sleep, aware of how completely drained the entire experience left me. I nox'ed my wand and lost myself in the gentle ebb and flow of unconsciousness

The next day started sluggishly at best. I woke up, washed myself, and looked at my neck in the mirror. The bite had left a dark purple bruise, painful to the touch, and unsightly in even the most flattering of circumstances. I covered it up with the collar of my white button-down, and set about doing one final sweep of my room to make sure I hadn't left anything of relative value behind. When I was confident that everything was as it should have been, I hurried downstairs where my trunk was packed, and my breakfast was waiting on the table.

"Morning mum," I said, sleepiness hanging on y every syllable. " Ready for the big day?"

My mum didn't answer. She merely looked up at me with a strange mixture of sadness and excitement. I took that as a "no," and busied myself with the eggs and bacon inconspicuously arranged into a frowning face. We sat in silence, the two of us occupying ourselves with nothing in particular, but trying our best not to look each other in the eye.

"Your father won't be able to see you onto the train. There was an emergency at work." Mum suddenly said, startling me out of my egg-induced trance. Her eyes hard on me, I could practically read her mind. Thoughts like 'my baby girl almost grown up,' 'why isn't everybody here?' and 'I know why, but why did it have to happen like this?' flicked through her mind like an old movie. You didn't have to be an legilimency expert to know that. I looked back down at my plate, the dopey sunny gaze of my eggs reflecting all of these questions back at me. 'It's for the best,' I told myself, repeating the mantra like it would save me from oblivion. As Ron, Hermione, and finally Harry made their way into the kitchen, the overall mood of the day hadn't changed much. Ron and Hermione had put themselves in that bubble of true love, the bubble where nothing except each other exists. Harry cleared his throat in an attempt to pop that bubble, but it didn't work. Ultimately, Harry, mum and I sat silent eating our breakfasts, and even loading the car without their help.

"Enough you two," mum said, snapping them out of their love bubble, "It's time to go. Hurry along, chop chop."

With a start, they separated and began the slow march into the backseat of a new Ford my father had confiscated during one of his many raids. This one was an update, complete with automatic driving capabilities. After saying the destination aloud, the engine revved to life and steered itself onto the village road, angling towards King's Cross station, and my final year at school.

Once we reached the station, mum discreetly used a Lightweight Charm to single-handedly lift my trunk from the car. We found a trolley nearby and piled all my school stuff on top, wheeling it into the station as Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed behind.

"Come on come on, it's almost time for you to go." Mum scurried towards the barrier, rushing the trolley further and further in until she disappeared behind it. Next strolled Ron and Hermione, casually strolling arm and arm.

I started walking towards the barrier at a brisk place when Harry stopped me.

"Ginny wait. I know that your mind's set about this... but I don't want you to go back. Please. Stay."

I just yanked my arm away, tired of this, and it was time to move forward with everything I had going for me. The barrier gave way in front of me, as it always had, and my ear drums were beat with the sounds of the scarlet engine, owls, and concerned parents rushing their children onto the train before it left. I looked for my mother's telltale hair as she handed my trunk to an attendant. "Very well, all set, love?" She said as she looked over at me.

"All set mum. See you for Christmas?"

She put her hand on my shoulder and pulled me closer, burying my face in her bosom. "I love you so much." Stuck in her embrace, I could say little more than "Rmf mrffle mr," which I hoped she could translate into the proper "I love you."

Mum broke Ron and Hermione from their romantic reverie yet again, and they both gave me their awkward good-byes. "See you this Christmas. Don't cause any trouble," was Ron's parting as he continued to look sideways at Hermione. Hers was a little more appropriate of a farewell, consisting of the lung-crushing hug and the squeals of "have fun." I'd expected such a response from any other girl, but never Hermione. It seems that they were feeding off of each other. Ron had gotten Hermione's bookish and authority oriented traits, while Hermione was becoming more and more expressive as she spent time in his company. I looked at them in envy, wishing Harry and I could do the same, but knowing such a thing would never happen.

Speaking of Harry, his was the last farewell. Or it was supposed to be. When we all looked around, Harry was out of sight, or possibly not even on the platform. A twinge of guilt ran through me as I pictured him, slack-jawed and pale as the woman he loves left him behind. The guilt passed quickly when the warning whistle rang throughout the platform. With a few more rushed good-byes, I boarded the train, and began my voyage back to Hogwarts.

The train ride went by in isolation. Luna came by and shared a compartment with me for a few seconds before she started complaining about some obscure creature or another and left. For the most part, I was alone on the voyage.

_It must be tough. _

I looked up, but no one was there. This was a first for me, hearing deep and sexy disembodied voices while sitting by my lonesome. But whatever had spoken up was right, it was tough. Over the summer and in last year I was so used to being with someone, or at least knowing that I could easily be with someone if that's what I wanted. Now, on my way back to Hogwarts, I'd realized how many of my friends had moved on, leaving Hogwarts or even this world forever.

_You're not as alone as you think._

There it was again, telling me everything I'd been trying not to think. _I'm here. I've always been here. _Now things were just getting creepy. But despite myself, despite my questionable sanity, and despite the very fact that this voice was coming from virtually nothing, there was a comfort from it. In it, I could hear power, compassion, sympathy, and everything I'd been yearning for. I was getting some strange pleasure(both physical and psychological) from the sheer sound of this voice. It could have yelled "You and everyone you love will die by my hand," and I still would have found something pleasing about this voice.

_Remember, Ginny. I've always been here._ And with that the voice was gone, leaving me feel as empty as before.

When we reached the station, the normal booming voice of Hagrid was gone. It had been replaced by a centaur, the divination professor, Firenze.

"Why Hello there, professor Firenze," I said, approaching the chestnut centaur.

"And Hello to you as well, Ms. Weasley. I know your question, and Hagrid is tending to matters with the giants, under the new Minister's authority. He is to return after the break." The centaur continued to look down at me while still ushering the first years to the boats.

"Thank you."

"Guard your heart well, young Weasley."

I looked down. It was common knowledge that centaurs often spoke in riddles, but this didn't seem like a riddle. It was a warning. Firenze knew about something I knew too, but was choosing to ignore. Had he known about the voice? About my relationship with Harry? Had he known about my loneliness? There was too much he could have known about, but how had he known?

"Thank you yet again, professor." With this, I turned quickly on my heels and headed to the carriage.

Luna had once again occupied her own carriage, most people trying their best to crowd into any without her. When I approached, she gave me her dreamy smile and beckoned me forward. "So you can see them now too?" It took me a second to realize what she said. Then I looked at the carriage, anchored as it was to a large black horse-like creature. "Yes, yes I can." I knew they were Threstles, and I knew only those who saw loss could see them, but knowing what they were didn't make them any more appealing. Finally being able to see them only reminded me of my loss. Something about my face must have reported these feelings to onlookers. Luna put her hand on my shoulder, and pulled me closer, holding me against her slim frame. "Losing something doesn't mean it's gone forever. Everything lost can be found again, in time." My loss was quickly replaced by shock and confusion. It was such a typically Luna thing to say, said with the best intentions and all the cheeriness in the world, but that didn't make me feel better. It was actually a disturbing thought. Then again, if it weren't disturbing, it wouldn't have been typical of Luna. Noiselessly, the carriages moved toward the castle, the threstles moving without leaving any evidence of their existence.

"They're beautiful in their own way." I said, snuggling closer to Luna as we both looked towards the castle, apprehensive of the feast and year ahead.

The great hall, as always, was lit by a million floating candles, while the magicked ceiling above mirrored the sky outside. Short of Professors Snape and Trelawney, the Headmistress seat was now filled by Professor McGonagall, while on her right sat a young and lazy-looking wizard, gently tapping his wand against his goblet. The air around me was filled by the constant buzz of conversation until the great double doors at the end of the hall opened. As everyone fell silent, the clack-clack-clack of Firenze's hooves echoed around, followed closely by a double line of first-years. _My God. I can't believe I used to be that short. _The thought made me laugh inside while they stood in front of the old stool and hat. The old tear opened up to show its old mouth, and the old hat began its old schtick.

_Welcome students, new and old..._

I didn't hear the rest. _You'd think after centuries of doing this, he'd run out of things to talk about. _It was that same voice from the train, bouncing around my ears without a source. I looked around, quickly hoping to find the owner, or at least a wand pointed mischievously at me. Discontent with this lack of discovery, I decided to sit back and enjoy the voice, even though it was only in my head. _Ginny... it's been quite some time... do you remember me yet? Remember how I made you feel when we were together?_

It's a funny thing when you try to answer a voice that only exists in your own head. Saying it out loud seems unnecessary, especially when you consider that the thought comes before the action, but it seemed the most appropriate at the time.

"No, I'm afraid I don't remember you... whoever you are." Needless to say, my answering an unasked question aloud turned the heads of the ten people closest to me. _There's no need to say it out loud. I'm in your head. I can hear your thoughts._ Since it was merely thought, it feels odd saying it had an arrogant tone, but I could feel it deep at the base of my skull, waves of smug arrogance moving through my body.

'Of course, why didn't I think of that?'

_You did. _

There really was no way to counter that. _Ginny you _need_ to remember me. _

"And that concludes the sorting," Professor McGonagall said, her voice ringing with finality. "Now before the feast begins, and we all begin the gentle march through our futures, there are several matters to which must be attended. As I'm sure most, if not all, of you are aware, the events that happened at Hogwarts last year were some of the most grave atrocities to face Hogwarts, and even the wizarding world. As such, those who showed the insurmountable bravery to stay behind and fight have been honored in life, or in the most heinous cases, in death, but as most of the students involved were seventh year students, they have gone on to bigger and better things in our new, more stable community. That does not mean there are none amongst us who saw the grievances of battle. At this time, I would like to call attention to Ms. Ginerva Weasley."

The Great Hall erupted into applause as I stood up, looking around sheepishly. Professor McGonagall beckoned me forward with a twitch of her head. I followed her command, each step less hesitant than the last. Finally, I stood several feet before McGonagall, as she looked down on me through her square glasses. "Ms. Weasley, despite defying the conventions and demands of her family, returned to Hogwarts to fight for the greater good. Not only did she fight, she was a key component in the defeat of Bellatrix Lestrange. For her work, the other professors and I have decided to award her with a trophy for Special Services to the School, which hasn't been rewarded since the first opening of the Chamber of Secrets. Although this award is presented in her name, the trophy will also be engraved with the names of all involved in the battle. Ms. Weasley..." I took another step closer, and Professor McGonagall pulled out her wand, twirling it in a circle. After three rotations, a large silver Goblet appeared, engraved with my name and the names of scores of others. Fred's name was underneath mine, obscured by tears as they fell and slid down the smooth silver. "Th...Thank... Thank you Professor," was all I managed to choke out before my knees gave way.

Professor McGonagall's hand landed on my shoulder, smoothing away the unease of loss. In a quieter voice that only I could hear, she said "you've done your family proud. And you will continue to make them proud. Remember this." She straightened up afterward, addressing the whole hall. "And now that this has been taken care of, it's time to introduce your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Everybody, please join me in welcoming Professor Mertonsen." The lazy-looking wizard stood up, giving a half-hearted wave to the cheering students. His black hair caught the light in different patches, discoloring it from black, to gray, to orange-gold. There was a strange charm about his laziness, like he'd often spent his time laying back on the couch, reading some obscure book or another. Judging by the reactions from many of the female student body, I wasn't the only one to share a similar reaction.

Urged on by Professor McGonagall, Mertonsen stood straight. He was rather tall, just a few inches taller than McGonagall. His shoulders were broad, and his waist tapered enough, allowing his robes to fall almost straight down,resting entirely on his shoulders like a cape. His face was slim and angular, like a cat's, ending in a square jaw covered in the stubble of a man too lazy to shave that morning. In his laid-back and careless demeanor, there was a sort of sexiness that you simply couldn't deny.

"Yes, well... As I said, Professor Mertonsen will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Also, as you may have noticed, our current Games Keeper is unavailable at the moment. Hagrid will be returning as soon as possible, but is most expected to return by spring. And with that, the feast shall begin."

After the feasts had ended, the four houses separated to return to their dormitories. The fat lady swung open upon hearing the password("Mugwump"), and we all trudged inside. Well, almost all. I'd gotten the password, and with the prestige of my award hanging in the air, there was very little doubt I'd be in trouble my first day of school for going to the lou after hours. In passing, I'd noticed how little had changed. The awkward pedestal was left empty every few spaces, denoting where a suit of armor had fallen victim to the battle, but for the most part the castle remained empty and unchanged. In the armor that remained, I saw myself, thousands of Ginny Weasleys briskly strolling through the halls in an attempt to find a bathroom. In the periphery, following just behind those Ginnys followed a shade, some dark figure barely making itself visible to anyone who'd notice it. Or just me. At this point, I couldn't trust my senses for anything in the world.

_Remember, Ginny. _

I swung a right and headed for the lavatory on the second floor. Having spent much of my first year here(although, admittedly my memory gets a little hazy about the specifics), it wasn't difficult to find. I walked over to the sink, putting my hands on either side to steady myself. The water began running of its own accord, filling the sink in response to my whims. I splashed my face a couple of times, and looked down at the faucet. A serpentine S looked back at me, its small eyes giving it an animated appeal. I could practically feel the snake as it slithered through my being, wrapping itself around my very mind.

_ Give in._

I did just that. I allowed the thoughts to flow through me. Thoughts of the snake, the chamber I knew hidden beneath, the basilisk's corpse and the diary. _You're so close, Ginny. _I looked in the mirror, unsure of myself. Was the Ginny at the sink opening the Chamber again? Was I about to be possessed by a shade of a shade? Was I even Ginny Weasley anymore? I looked deeper into my own eyes, until something in the periphery drew my focus away. Standing behind me, leaning against the stall, was a tall boy. His wavy black hair was combed neatly to the side, and his face was set in a calm, serious expression, breaking into a relaxed half-smile. There was power in his eyes. A cold, menacing power that sought even more strength. He sauntered towards me, stretching his hand out. I'd been stuck where I was, struck by the power in his eyes.

"Ginny," he said, voice deep and smooth. Whether he said it aloud or in my mind, I couldn't be sure. "You remember."

And I did. I remembered everything about the man before me. I remembered his name, his compassion, the way he warped my mind to do his bidding. I remembered opening my heart to him in a way I'd never done since, and I remember how he made me feel adored and special. These things I couldn't fake, or replace. This was the closest to love I'd ever felt, and something in the way he stood before me suggested the same. I'd wondered about his capacity for the emotion, but didn't care. I wanted to be with him, in any way possible. He put his hand on my cheek, and despite the lack of physical being, there was a solidarity there, like I'd been aware the hand was there once upon a time, cold and firm.

"Tom... Tom Riddle. Or Should I say 'Voldemort'?" Whether I'd said the words or thought them, I'm not sure. I was terrified by his presence, having freed myself from his grip at least twice. His hand still on my cheek, he did not cringe at the sound of his other name. He did not react in any way visible.

"Ginny... I came back for a reason. No, that's not right. I never left. I was always there, inside your heart and mind. But you can feel me now, and I can feel you, and all the love you have to give to the man you think most deserves it. Call me Voldemort if you wish, but the way I am now is nothing like how I was before. I've been in your heart, and that of everyone you've ever loved. I know what Dumbledore meant before. I don't know everything about this thing called 'love', but I know this: I love you, Ginny."

I looked Tom Riddle, the most dangerous man of our history, in the face, in awe of his power, aroused by his beauty, and trapped by his newfound love.


	4. A Riddle You Just Can't Answer

_Prologue: Here's the new chapter. It's shorter than the last two because, well, life's been getting pretty hectic. It's a pretty meh chapter, but I hope you enjoy it. That being said I've got to say this:updating this more regularly is going to be more difficult than I thought. At the very latest, a new chapter will be up every seven to ten days. Oh, and I don't think I'll be naming the chapters after this. I suck at naming things as it is(IE Professor Mertenson, I just borrowed two names on a psych textbook.). In the market for a Beta Reader/editor. Probably for this story and others in the future. Send me a message if interested. No compensation, but a friend said I should get one. Beta Reader must be okay with cliff hangers. They happen. Deal with it._

Questioning your own sanity is the single most annoying thing you could possibly do to yourself. While you're standing there, looking into the eyes of someone you'd considered long gone from the corners of your mind, you ask yourself "Am I going crazy?" While he puts his hand on your cheek, and says he loves you, you have to ask yourself "did I hit my head on something?" The good news is that if you're asking these questions then odds are that you are sane. If you're not, then you really need to get yourself checked.

"Ginny." Tom whispered my name, never taking his eyes from my blanched face. His hand, like a dream, lingered on the periphery of my sensations. He stroked my cheek and I got goosebumps. "I've waited so long for you to feel me. To know I'm here."

"How are you here? You were in the diary. Harry killed you. You and what you become."

Pain flashed through his face. I don't know if this was because he remembered the pain of death, or from my words. "That doesn't matter. I exist because you want me to. Some part of you could never let me go, and I stayed. Hidden deep in your mind."

"You should be gone. Obliterated. There should be nothing of you left. Why have you decided to come back now? Now that all of your horcruxes, both your bodies, after almost everything that made you what you are has been destroyed!" At this point I was almost shouting, terrified by my own lack of sanity. And my attraction to him.

"I don't know. I can't answer you. Horcruxes are pieces of magic that have never been researched seriously. Too dark and evil. If I had to guess, I'd say it's because a sliver of me lived on in your memories, in your heart. Even after the diary was destroyed. If this held true for the diary, then maybe it held true for my other horcruxes. Like Potter. The more time you spend with him, the more that piece of me still in him resonate, and make themselves known. That, or the piece of soul in you, bolstered by your love for me and the support of Potter's piece, has finally gotten strong enough to make itself known."

One explanation questioned the nature of dark magic. The other questioned my mind. Either way, there was nothing I could do but accept the situation. Sure, I could have fought him, but talking to a voice that only exists in your head is weird enough. Fighting it would have thrown me overboard into the loony lagoon. And there was no point, I didn't have the desire to fight him. There was nothing in me that wanted to struggle against these constraints, to free myself from the grasp he had on my mind.

"How... how real are you?"  
>"Pardon?"<p>

"You heard me, Riddle, how real are you? How can I feel you? Can I feel all of you? What are the limits of this takeover?"

While he considered these questions, his face showed nothing. It was a blank, pale mask. As it had been in life. He was controlled and patient.

"Once again, I don't know. I suppose I'm the result of my conscious, and your will. While I live in your mind, I can interact and communicate, and you can feel me as if it were a dream, but I have no physical presence. I am part of your mind, and nothing more. At least, I think. I cannot act with your body, but I am still a part of it. It's rather confusing."

My head swam. The implications of what he said were great and terrible. He had no physical presence, but I'd still be stimulated by his touch, and he existed as I wished him, although acted as he so chose. Sanity be damned, this was something I could live with.

Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted, and it snapped me out of my realizations. Without a watch or clock there was no way to tell the time, but it was late. Sleep was battering at my mind, threatening to break in at any moment, and I was all but powerless.

"So if you exist because I want you to, how do I contact you? It's late, and I don't want this to be our last chance."

"If I am what you wish, I'll be there. You only need to think of me."

With these final, comforting words, it was time to leave.

"Good night, Tom."

I turned around, but he was gone, replaced by a broken mirror with the romantic appeal of... well, of a broken mirror. _Good night, Ginny. _The voice was back in my head, and I was soon on my way to the Girl's dormitory, and into a rather reluctant sleep.

The next day marked the first day of classes. Although undoubtedly interesting, potions passed by in a bubbling blur. I concocted some poison or another, doing a mediocre job(despite Slughorn's praise). In transfiguration, McGonnagal showed us how to change our physical appearances. It was nothing like turning into animgaii, but I did manage to give myself a ridiculous poof of jet black hair and an orange skin tone. Overall, the results were horrendous. After a lively History of Magic class, the day was almost over with Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Mertenson walked in five minutes late, reminiscent of a zombie, revived just that morning to teach this class.

"Sorry I'm late, class," he said, running his hands through his dirty blonde hair, "I was busy doing awesome things you're too young to understa- oh wait, this is the seventh years... Okay, well I was busy finding a way to slap that poltergeist."

It was love at first sight. Everything about him, from his lazy demeanor to his dislike of Peeves demanded that everybody love him. _He's not _that _great. _A strange twinge of envy flashed in my mind, like Tom was jealous of Mertenson.

I rolled my eyes, although part of me doubted Tom knew that.

"Now then. This is Defense Against the Dark Arts, and you're going to be learning more about the Dark Arts and how to fight them. Some of you, mostly those of you in Dumbledore's Army, don't need this class that much. Still have to take it. First, we're going to be talking about werewolves..." and from there the topic at hand became more and more in-depth. At the end of class, when we are all packing up to go, Professor Mertenson spoke up. "Ginny. A word?" Confused, I stopped, dropping my bag back on my chair.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Congratulations on your fame. You are now one of the best students I've had, simply because you fought so hard at the battle of Hogwarts. That being the case, you will be expected to be my dueling partner. Obviously you've got great skill if you're still alive, and dating Harry Potter."

It was strange to hear Harry's name. My mind flashed to him, images of him stalking through my room in some pathetic attempt to feel me. I imagined him sitting at the dining table, writing a letter about how much he missed me. _Stop. Please. Anymore sappy love scenes and I'm bound to vomit. Or whatever it is I can do in this state. _For the most part, Tom was right, but that didn't change the fact that I still felt guilty. I was technically cheating on him with someone that only existed in my mind.

"... Ms. Weasley? Are you there?" Professor Mertenson was snapping his fingers in my face, trying to get my attention.

"Oh. Yes, yeah I'm here."

"Anyway... yeah, be prepared to fight next class."

"Yes, Professor." I slowly turned and grabbed my bad, walking out of the class without looking back. 'Well... that was less awkward than expected.' It was still awkward to be thinking a conversation. Tom's reply was cool, almost menacing. _Keep an eye on him. He knows something more than he should. _With that, the discussion was over. I went to the Great Hall, and sat with some of the leftovers from Dumbledore's Army. We chatted incessantly about our days, nothing of particular interest coming up, then we helped each other with homework in the common room. I set about on the impossible length of essay McGonagall assigned. Tom proved to be more helpful than expected, flooding my mind with pictures and sensations related to the essay. Overall, having one of the most powerful dark wizards as your inner tutor was going to be helpful. At about midnight, with my essay finished and the fire dying down, it was time to go to bed. The common room was empty, save two sixth years in the corner snogging. Tom seemed bent about this, complaining about some mistake or another he saw in my paper 'Oh be quiet, you sound just like Hermione.' I started up the stairs, getting half way up the first flight when the stairs turned into a slide, and I slid back smoothly to the entrance.

The sixth years in the corner looked up as I fell back, their eyes closed in silent giggles. Disoriented, I looked back up the entrance to see that, yes, there was a slide in place of the usual stairs. _It's a magical secret of the castle. Boys aren't allowed in the Girl's dormitories. The castle knows I'm in here, and they won't let you go up as long as I am._ This was disconcerting to say the least. If the castle knew that my mind was filled with Tom Riddle, could others? Did I ever have this problem second year, when I was being possessed? 'This is different. Did this happen last time?' _No, but I was in the diary then. I guess, now that I''m in your head, and have a more substantial physical form, the castle can sense me more easily_ I struggled to think through this, sitting in a couch by the dying fire. The magical defenses around the castle were centuries old. The castle was a fortress of powerful magic that not even Voldemort, at the height of his power, could have broken through. Needless to say, a seventeen year old slightly-above-average witch wasn't going to be able to outsmart it.

Then I remembered something. He exists because I want him to. I was in the middle of talking to him, so he existed then. When I was on my way to the dormitory last night, he lay dormant, my ind sealed to him. I needed to close my mind and not let him exist as much as he did. I needed to seal my mind from his touch. Crap.

I sat on the chair for another half hour, trying not to think of him, ignoring his thoughts like the buzz of a mosquito by my ear. When the staircase reformed, I began walking, taking extra care to not think of him. At my door my defenses weakened, and the slide reformed, but with the door open and my hand on the knob, I was able to pull myself into the room. Adrenaline pumping through my system(once again) made it impossible to sleep, so I spent the next two hours practicing hiding my mind from him. It was difficult work, but necessary.

When I'd finally managed to seal my mind from him for more than five minutes, I was exhausted. _Good Night._ He was fuming. There was a mild fury coursing through me, although "mild" may be putting it too lightly. This was powerful, cold, and it still felt like only a portion of what he was capable of. At the same time, it felt weak, like it took strength to summon his anger. Like his touch was slipping away. I'd forgotten that he exists because I want him to. Hiding his existence was necessary for me, but hiding him too long would end him. Talk about a double-edged sword.

Three days later, I got my first letter from Harry. As expected, it was full of the sad groveling, the "romantic" lines, the declarations of love. Disgusting, as they had been in person. I reached the bottom of the letter and saw something of note.

_ Ginny, I've talked with McGonagall. She said that my coming to the_

_ school was allowed and acceptable. I will be visiting by the end of the week_

_ and cannot wait to hold you in my arms. Until then, each moment apart is _

_ just another moment of agony for me. _

_ All my love,_

_ Harry_

Since today was Thursday, this meant that Harry was due tomorrow. In one day I would be smothered, possibly for the entire weekend, one I'd devoted to homework and "experimenting" with the "you can feel me but I have no presence" thing Tom told me about. So I was going to be stuck with Harry and desperately horny for the entire weekend. Both aspects of this weekend sounded like absolute hell. I contemplated the upcoming arrival of the famous Harry Potter, and his unbearable wounded puppy style of love making. _Ginny. _And suddenly my hormones were raging, just like that first night when he spoke through Harry. Tom was snapping me out of my teenage trance, alerting me to the end of yet another History of Magic class.

Ever since that first night, Tom hadn't physically manifested, despite my wishes. Although Tom worried about tipping of Mertenson, I tried my best to summon him without the professor knowing. Forty minutes into class, and not even Tom's black eyes were visible.

"Ms. Weasley, would you come and help me demonstrate?" Mertenson's voice cut clearly through the fog of my demands, and I found myself in front of the class for reasons I can't quite remember. Apparently(and this was explained after putting the fire out), I was supposed to properly demonstrate how to use a Shield Charm to seal someone in. The curse Mertenson used blasted a hole in the wall behind me, ignited several papers, and singed the ends of my hair. Chaos erupted fast.

"Well... seems someone wasn't paying attention. Oh well." With a sweep of his wand, everything was put back in its place, and the fires were put out. "That'll be all for the day. Please practice your Shield Charms, and be ready to be tested."

I left the room in embarrassment, keeping my head bent in hopes of not being stopped. I looked up when Mrs. Norris crossed my path, and looked around to find myself in the hall with the Room of Requirement. I turned around, and fell on my butt. Standing before me was a suit of armor, like all the others. It was freshly polished, reflecting everything around it. And things that weren't. Tom was reflected in the suit of armor, sitting on some unseen chair, flipping through a book.

"How are you reading when there are no books in my mind?"

"Oh, it's not a book. It's a memory of a book... how can you see me?"

"You're in the armor... Well, not in, but on."

"Ah." He tried to step closer, but when he moved out of the edges of the armor, he disappeared.

"I think I can only see you in reflections. At least in the physical world."

"Ah," he said, disappointed. He stayed his head in the armor, his eyes unfocusing as he thought more on the subject. "We'll have more time to think about this later. That cat always creeped me out. Let's go."

At his request, we left, heading towards the Great Hall.

"Hi Ginny." said a voice behind me. It was Luna. She had been walking out of Charms class, her shoes missing yet again. "How have you been?"  
>"Fairly well, just getting by in classes. It feels weird being back. How have you been?"<br>"Pretty lonely. I never realized how much all the seventh years meant until they left. I suppose that's the nature of these things, to not realize how much they matter until they're gone."

Her comment hit home. Since returning to the castle, I'd realized how empty and quiet it was. There were few rowdy discussions at the dinner table, no jokes, no secret missions to go on. Most of my days thus far had been lived in my head, with Tom as my only company. I missed them all, Hermione, Ron, even Harry a little.

"Oh, Luna, that reminds me: Harry's coming to visit tomorrow." Instantly, her face lit up, happiness pouring from every pore as she thought more on Harry's arrival. I envied her.

"That'd be lovely. When is he expected?"

"I'll let you know when he gets here, okay?"

"Okay. Can't wait. Well, I've got to go find my shoes. Have a nice day."And with that Luna was gone.

That night, I dreamed of Harry. He and I were dancing at some kind of yule ball. I close my eyes to enjoy the sounds of the music, and he kisses me. I open them again, and in his place is standing Tom Riddle, his wavy black hair shifting in the breeze we make, and his eyes closed as he dance in circles, enjoying the strings of a discordant waltz.

I woke up to somebody violently shaking me. "He's here he's here he's here" was all this random someone was saying. After three years, "he" typically meant Voldemort, and I reached for my wand instinctively, pointing it at the shaker's face. It took a few slow seconds to realize that the "he" in question was Harry. I dressed in preparation for school, and went downstairs, where Harry sat in a chair by the window, enjoying the glow of dawn.

"I've missed you so much." He got up and moved towards me, pulling me in a gentle embrace and holding me firmly against his chest. I hugged him back, although with less passion. He lifted my chin up and kissed me on the lips, slipping his tongue between my teeth. I closed my eyes.

"This is almost disgusting to watch." I snapped my eyes open, and saw Tom Riddle sitting where Harry just was. This Tom, however, was no reflection. This was a physical manifestation, the thing I'd spent so many minutes trying to make in Defense Against the Dark Arts. When Harry and I pulled away, Tom stood up and grabbed my opposite hand.

"It seems I was right about spending time with Potter."


	5. Ring Around the Redhead

_[A/N] To the, like, ten people that actually read this, I'm sorry for the late chapter. Midterms and stuff made life crazy. Here's the new chapter. I hope you guys enjoy,and next chapter well most likely involve a sex scene. If that's a problem, then you may want to stop reading now. And I have a feeling that this story will be reaching a conclusion soon. Primarily because there are other things I want to work on, and school work. Who knows. Welp, that's that. TTFN_

In the space of five seconds, I learned a new skill. Now, this skill has become invaluable to me, but in the beginning it was coarse, and unrefined. Thinking and talking at the exact same time, as I'm sure most people know, is impossible. So is listening and thinking in two separate conversations. It's rather difficult to communicate with two different people at the same time. Tom being outside of my own head also made it fairly difficult to converse with him. I had to verbally _talk_ to Tom. And Harry. At the same time. Here's what I did:

"You've been in my thoughts." Which I hoped Tom would realize meant "Why are you in the real world?"

"I've missed you too, Ginny. I'm glad you could be here with me." Harry would reply.

"I don't know how this happened, Ginny. I guess I was right after all." Tom would say.

"It feels weird having you here with me. I've missed it."

"I've missed it too. It's been too long." Harry would say, completely oblivious to this situation.

"Whatever the reason, it looks like you're going to have to do this double-talk thing until I return to your thoughts." Tom, chiding me.

"Let's just find a way to make things the way they once were, okay?"

"Ginny..." Harry pulled me close, nuzzling me into his neck. He purred deeply in his throat, his eyes closed while mine darted between Tom sitting on a desk and Harry's chest. At this moment, there was no way to explain how this had happened. It just did. Tom reappeared, unbidden by me, and against his own volition. He just did. The second I touched Harry. Was that it? Was this the reason Tom was here?

_ Like Potter. The more time you spend with him, the more that piece of me still in him resonates, and makes itself known. _

This visit was going to be fun after all.

Regardless of what this meant, Harry was becoming a rather hot topic. All around us eager young first years were gathering in a circle, snickering or with mouth agape. By simply standing here we were putting on a show, the first years pushing and shoving like children trying to look at the Gorilla in the zoo's cage.

"Let's leave. You're causing a scene and Luna's dying to see you again." I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him through the portrait hole. In the corridor Harry's presence still stirred some shocked faces, but being in the open helped lessen the oppressive feeling of their gaze. We made our way to the Great Hall, hand in hand with Tom two steps behind. The doors opened wide with a deafening boom, announcing our appearance louder than giants could. The Hall fell silent as all eyes settled on the thunderbolt scar visible in every copy of the prophet, all the best-selling books at Flourish and Blotts, several million posters hung all over the wizarding world, and (more recently) chocolate frog cards. For a second I was almost thankful for the silence, until a Hufflepuff thought it'd be a good idea to start cheering.

Fuck.

The Great Hall seemed to explode at the seams, while I slipped from underneath Harry and found a seat. Harry waved at everybody, accustomed as he was to the limelight. I found a place close to the faculty table, and waited until the applause died down. Harry then joined me, ignoring requests for autographs, and slipped his hand in mine under the table. Tom stood in a corner, silently brooding, envy and annoyance pushing their way into my thoughts.

"Settle down a little. You're getting loud."

When breakfast appeared, Harry and I ate and drank like we were back at the burrow. Luna eventually made her way into the Hall, a dreamy smile becoming stronger as she got closer to the spectators. After a lot of Shield and Confundus Charms, she was finally able to force her way through, and join us.

"Hello Ginny. Hi Harry." She turned from me to him, her smile becoming more solid and defined as her eyes flashed.

"Hi Luna. How have you been? It's nice to see you again."

They exchanged more pleasantries, but I was totally zoned out. Tom, still standing in the corner, was now blocked from view by entirely too many students. Finally having him back, physically, meant more than anything. I was finally able to see and feel him again, and we could converse mentally without being bothered by the distractions of Harry and his incessant chattering. I called out to him and he appeared by my side. I placed my hand under the table and he grabbed it. I looked at Luna, turning my face into a blank mask while Tom talked in my ear.

"So you _do _need to be near a horcrux for this to happen. Or at least what once was a horcrux. This is just great." He started stroking my cheek, his expression hard. "The only way I can feel you, or you me is when this wart is here, touching you the ways I want to. Although not as well."

I thought back to that second date, Tom's temporary control over Harry as we had sex. Would Harry ever have been that good if Tom wasn't around?

"I guess this puts an end to your little 'experimentation'. Now you know you mostly need Potter around to feel me."

_But what about the bathroom? When you materialized there? _

"There was a mirror there, and you were able to feel a ghost of me. I'm more physical with a horcrux around, even if it _is _still a ghost of a sensation. It seems like a dumbbell: my weight depends on how many extra pieces there are. That or I could feed off of your energy, like the first time. But that's entirely too risky, and I won't do it again."

Unfortunately, he was right. It seemed the only way to feel him the way I was now was with Harry around. Or a horcrux.

I pulled my wand out underneath the table.

"_Muffliato_."

This was the first time I'd ever used this spell, having learned it over the summer from Harry. The entire assembly poked around their ears, swatting at their heads, attempting to rid themselves of my curse. Harry looked at the assembly and knew what happened.

"Is something the matter?" Harry tilted his head to one side and looked at me, curious.

"I just needed a break. So how have you been in my absence?"

"I've been better. Since you've been gone I've been having nightmares at least once a week, dreaming of all the horcruxes coming back, fully formed, and ready to bring him back."

He held my hand tighter, his clammy grip squeezing the blood from my fingers, numbing them in the process. I nuzzled him closer, trying to find a way to press the issue without raising suspicion. He seemed content to give me all the information on his own accord.

"It's that damn ring. Sure, it was destroyed, but I can't shake the feeling that I shouldn't have left it where I did."

"You should listen to your dreams, Harry. Dreams are a powerful thing. My mom had a dream that the spell she was working on would kill her, and it did. If she'd listened to her dream, she wouldn't have blown herself up. The things you learn..." At this moment, Luna was a god-send. I watched her words sink into his face, and knew he would fetch the ring. Then she simply _had _to ruin it. "Of course, if the horcruxes coming together is what's so terrifying, maybe it's best that you divide them, hide them again. Either way, you'll sleep better knowing they're some place safe."

If he hid the horcrux, my chances were slim. I could have taken the ring as soon as he'd gotten it. I'd have worn it around and let Tom stand by my side, invisible to all but me. If he hid it, wherever he might have hidden it, there was no chance of that happening.

"Regardless of what I do with it, I need to do something about it. Ginny, would you come with me? I'm not entirely comfortable alone with those... things."

Jesus be praised, my window was opened. Somewhere to my side, Tom got up and started dancing a jig, the action perfectly coinciding with how I felt inside. "Sure, but I've got class. Maybe after dinner?"

"Of course. Now go to class. I think I'll visit some professors or something." And with that, the conversation was over.

Classes could not have moved more slowly if I'd gone back in time to retake them. Tom was back in my head, except for the rare reflection in windows, when I could see him sitting in a reflection of a chair, reading what I can only guess to be the memory of a book. It was almost depressing. His world, the part of it that I could see was nothing more than a world in a mirror, interacting with nothing more than a shade of an item. The books in my memory certainly couldn't have been that good either, having been exposed to my mother's romance novels about 2-D women addicted to the drama of dating between two of three species, and textbooks.

But still, the thought was interesting. After having passed another window, watching him read what appeared to be a cookbook, I finally decided to ask.

'Tom?'

_Yes, Ginny?_

'If you can read my memory of books, can you see my memories themselves?'

_Yes, and I have in the past. Back when I was the sociopath of yesteryear. After going through the first five or six years of your life, I started developing that... love. Since then it felt wrong. There were parts of you that only you should have told me. Why do you ask?_

'After spending five years of my life trapped in my head, it seems weird that you haven't run out of memories of books by now.' To be frank, I was no Hermione. Books just weren't my thing.

_I did, a while back. Normally I just listened to your thoughts, stepping away when they got too intimate. Or lived vicariously, feeling your reactions to the moment and amusing myself that way. Being trapped in your head, able to think about everything. I think that's what really saved me from myself. _

'You can g-'

BANG

In the middle of my thoughts, of our conversation, I found a way to run into the only suit of armor for fifty feet. The noise snatched curious students from their classes, and Peeves thought it was his cue, starting to knock over more armor in unseen parts of the castle. Without looking out of his classroom, an unseen Professor Mertenson said "Ten points from whoever started that blasted poltergeist up again!"

He rounded the door. "Oh. Hello Ms. Weasley. Ten points from Gryffindor. Now class is about start, would you care to join us, or are you hurt?"

My face turned as red as my hair, and I found a seat somewhere in the back.

"Good, everyone's here. Have you practiced your Shield Charms?" Almost everyone nodded their heads. "Good. Now everyone, please pick a partner and let's begin."

A mouse of a Hufflepuff came up to me. Her hair was teased and curled out of her face, giving her pointed nose, long face, and huge eyes more space to stand out. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she nervously asked to be my partner, and we began cursing each other. Her Shield Charm was not particularly strong. The leg locking jinx that should have rebounded on me ended up blasting right through the invisible bubble and tripping her up. After watching in amusement for about thirty seconds, I undid my jinx and let her attack. When she finally gained her feet, she unexpectedly shot a Stunning Spell at me, which I rebounded on her with almost unconscious ease.

Although I enjoyed watching the mouse scurry about, protecting and ducking her spells and mine, the fact that it was a non-verbal spell made this mentally grueling, and allowed me no time to talk with Tom. Instead, he whispered in the back of my mind, telling me how to make the shield stronger.

"Very Good, Ginny. Very good." Mertenson came up behind me, and pat me on the shoulder and walked away.

_The creep. Every time he looks at you I feel like he sees me. _After he mentioned it, there _was _a strange glimmer in the professor's eyes, but I dismissed it.

With the end of class, I rushed back to the common room. Harry wasn't there(obvious by the lack of fan boys and fan girls), so I sat at a table and talked to Tom.

'The first thing I'm going to do once you're physical is screw your brains out. No complaints.'

_None to be heard. But we're _not _doing anything in that blasted dormitory. It just feels so weird. _

_ '_Agreed. Room of requirement?'

_That'll be interesting. I wonder what the room will turn into since I don't have a real body. _

While Tom and I pondered this thought, the overly zealous squeals of tweeny girls let me know that Harry was climbing through the portrait hole. I turned around just in time to have Harry draped over my shoulders like a tattered cloak.

"I've missed you." He kissed my cheek several times, leaving the sloppy imprint of his lips behind.

"I've missed you too. We should go get the ring before it gets too dark outside." Despite the calm in my voice, my heart was racing. I wanted nothing more than to tear from the room and get the bloody horcrux. Wherever it was.

"Right. Let's go then, shall we?" And with the Harry unfastened himself from my neck. He held his hand out to me and I took it. He made a pathetic effort to lift me from the chair, and when he failed I pulled myself up. Keeping my hand in his, we walked towards the entrance, stares and shrieks of joy surrounding us as we went. It got to the point that I cast _Muffliato _on myself, just to get away from the sounds of hormonal women. When we reached the grounds, I undid the jinx, and followed Harry's lead.

"It's just down here. Somewhere in the forest." We banked right and headed down a hill, to a trail pounded lifeless by the hordes of Death Eaters that once hid inside."Look for a silver ring with a stone in it." The trees above us blocked a good portion of the light. Although it was barely twilight, the branches over our heads gave one the impression of midnight.

"_Lumos_" Harry and I said simultaneously. Our wands lit up to alleviate the darkness in front of us, but even with the added help, it seemed almost impossible to find a tiny ring in all the brush. The situation seemed almost hopeless.

"Harry. Why don't we just try Summoning it?" It seemed rather logical.

The_ ring can't be summoned. It would have defeated the purpose of all my traps if you could do that. _Tom read my mind. Again.

"I don't know about that. When I was with Dumbledore, I tried Summoning the ring, but it was dragged back to the dish. I don't know if it was a Charm on the horcrux itself, or bowl, or anything. All I know is that after we tried to Summon it, this weird hand thing shot up and dragged it back to the basin."

_That's brilliant! If we Summon the horcrux, it'll rise above the ground gently, and from that we'll be able to physically pick it up. "_Harry, it _rose._ We don't need it to come right to us. We just need to know where it is."

"BRILLIANT! Would you like to do the honors?"  
>I rolled up my sleeves, cleared my thoughts. <em>Whatever you do, don't say "horcrux". The ring isn't technically one anymore, and even if you can Summon it using "horcrux", there's a chance it'll affect Harry as well.<em>

_ "Accio Ring." _

About thirty yards in front of us a pale green light shone as the ring lifted itself from the ground. A loud crack sounded from the spot and it fell back to the earth. Harry raced forward, like a dog after a frisbee.

"I've got it!" He held the ring high in the air, relief shining through his face like the sun out of his ass. "Now where should we hide it?"

"Give it to me. I'll hide it, that way you won't have to think about its safety too much." I put my hand out, hoping the quickened beating of my heart didn't show through my chest.

"Ginny... can you do it? Are you sure? I don't want to burden you too much."

"Are you saying I'm not strong enough? Not smart enough? Do you doubt me that much?" The words settled into the very core of his being, and I knew I won. Playing the guilt card was almost too effective.

Harry reluctantly put the ring in my hand, and I slipped it into my pocket. After that I "stormed" from the spot, hoping he'd take the hint and leave me be. Instead, he chased after me. "Don't you _dare _touch me." The words stung him, and we walked back to the castle in silence.

I slipped my hand in my pocket. After I found the ring again I silently slipped it onto my finger.

"It feels good to be physical without Potter touching you." Tom grabbed me by the waist, and we walked to the castle, Harry trailing behind silently. I could tell he was angry, that I'd hurt him. I could feel his gaze trying to melt through me, but I didn't care. Tom whispered things in my ear, and I was happy to listen, while Harry remained silent, and I was the single happiest person in the world.


	6. One Step Closer

_[A/N] It's getting closer to the end, and thanks to all those who have stuck with. This chapter has a sex scene, so if you're not up for that, you're going to want to skip down about three pages or so. Three or four to be safe. There will only be one or two more chapters after this and you'll have the explosive ending! Mwahahaha. Hope you enjoyed thus far and stay tuned for more to come. _

Triumphant. That's probably the only word I could possibly use to describe how I felt at this moment. Harry trailed behind me, like a dog kicked from the bedroom. Tom put his hand around my waist, and I... I was reveling in everything that happened around me.

We reached the doors and even the waves of fangirlism that normally permeated the air didn't seem to phase me. Only when the cries from joyous to sympathetic did I remember Harry trailing yards behind me. In such a crowd it was impossible to turn away from him and not seem like a total bitch. I turned on my heels and walked back to him. I folded into his embrace, and listened patiently as he whispered into my ear.

"Ginny... I didn't mean to hurt you. It's just... it's such a big job, I don't want anything bad to happen to you. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

"You'd find a way... You always do." Needless to say, it was a chore to keep myself serious. Ever nerve in my body told me to run. To escape to some abandoned classroom and experiment with the new possibilities of my new toy. In a sea of spectators, smothered by a clingy twig of a boy, there was no way to leave this situation without looking like the single worst human being in existence. I either left with him, or without him, and either way there was no chance of getting the freedom I needed.

Harry kissed the top of my head and pulled me close. He lifted my chin, and began to move in for a kiss, in full view of half the Hogwarts student body.

"Public displays of affection are expressly prohibited, Potter. Despite your fame and you technically not being a student, I should expect you to understand this." Forcing his way through the onlookers, Mertenson emerged with a strangely stern look on his finely embellished face.

"I'm sorry... but who are you?" Deep in his green eyes was red. The crimson red of anger and malice that had startled and enchanted. It was only a flash, but it registered with me. And hopefully only me.

"The Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. And I'll thank you kindly to respect that title, as well as the rules of Hogwarts. While you may be a guest, it would be... unwise to flaunt the rules at your discretion." Harry shrank from that. He seemed to become physically smaller, reverting to his default expression of angst. Mertenson took a few steps closer. "And I'll remind _you, _Ms. Weasley, that you are still a student, and a model for other young witches here. As such, you are bound more highly to the morals and rules of the castle than your boyfriend here." With that I knew why he shrank. Under Mertenson's gaze, I felt weak. Despite his usually calm and careless demeanor, his anger seemed powerful. Hidden by gentle docility was an unfathomable power in his anger. While contemplating all of this, I weakly muttered an affirmative, and turned to walk away with Harry in toe.

"I think I should go. Things are getting kind of complicated now. So... I'll see you over winter break?"

"Of Course. Good bye Harry."

"I love you."

"I'll miss you." Sure, it wasn't love. But it was the truth. At least with that I could live with myself, instead of digging myself deeper into this relationship. With one final hug, the crowd parted to allow Harry to pass. When he reached the edge of the grounds he Disapparated and returned to parts unknown to do things best left to the imagination. As the group dissipated and I was free to myself, I slipped into a girl's lavatory and put the ring on my finger. Tom materialized leaning against a wall, and stared at me, a bemused smirk crossing his face. His expression had two unbidden effects: it infuriated me, and turned me on.

"What the Hell was that? How did you do that? Why did you take over Harry again? Do you have ANY idea how risky that was?"

Tom pushed off the wall and sauntered towards me. "Relax love. I'm sure no one noticed, and it was only for a second. Like you didn't enjoy it." He stood inches from me, the ghost of his breath gently brushing against my cheeks as I stared into his eyes, a boyish glint I'd never seen before danced in his eyes as they studied my face, and the mountain of goosebumps I'm sure he could see.

It happened fast.

In a split second, Tom grabbed my hands and forced them above my head, holding them there with one vice grip. "Now. I seem to recall you promising that the first thing we'd do when I was 'physical' was have rough sex. I must say, you've gotten my hopes up now. Now the 'experiments' are going to begin."

He dragged me into a nearby stall, large enough to accommodate the two of us, but small enough to make it a tight squeeze. Tom closed the door, and I freed myself from his grasp to grab my wand. I pointed it at the door, muttering "_Muffliato._ In case I get loud." I hastily stowed my wand back in my pockets. "Anyway, carry on?" But before I could finish, one hand was on my mouth. The other, pinning me against the door like he'd done just seconds before. "That was thoughtful. Really, it was. Now, it's time to satisfy so many years of pent up need." He removed the hand from my mouth and replaced it with his lips. At first he was gentle, melding lips with mine, tongue dancing between shared cheeks, until he got more forceful, breaking away every so often to bite at my bottom lip in what could only be described as an beastly attempt to have me for himself. When he broke away again, I moaned as he pressed his body harder against me, forcing me against the door with no free space to move. He began moving further down, kissing my neck gently, but with the same growing intensity as our kiss.

"Oh... oh Tom." I moaned, a deep and throaty sound that seemed beyond my capacity. He moved to the right side of my neck. "You know the best part about my more substantial body? I can feel you. Everything about you. Your temperature rising when I kiss you. Your body shaking as I press onto you more and more. And I can still feel how absolutely insane I'm making you." And with that, he latched onto my neck, running his tongue against the left side of my neck. He bit along my jugular, sure to leave more bruises than last time. "I can feel you reveling in the pain." One more bite and I was about to explode. But he was right about the pain. My mind had taken a back seat to my body, as his every touch was intensified and each bite sent flashes of light dancing behind my eyelids. It hurt, each bite becoming a more permanent and lasting sensation, but I loved every second of it.

Slowly he slid his free hand down to the waist of my skirt. His hand crept up the smooth plane of my stomach, until his fingers glanced on the under-wire of my bra. "Well this just won't do." He deftly unhooked my bra, letting it slink to the floor like a stray hair. He returned his attention to my breasts. Tom slowly released my hands, and dropped to his knees in front of me. In this position he was at the perfect height for what came next. He lifted my shirt and robes above my head, leaving my top half entirely exposed to the cold, made sharper by a fine layer of sweat. His fingers danced, circling my hardening nipples. Bathed in the glow of his attentions, my body became a carnal sacrifice. He devoured me, enveloping one stiff nipple in the warm shelter of his mouth, resting his now free hand on my waist. Tom glided his tongue gently over it, enough force to make me insane, but not so much that this sensation stole all others from my body. He teased me, as he had for some time. With his other hand, he continued to rub and pinch my other nipple, preparing it for(hopefully) the same worship he was paying the first. He sucked my nipple once more and removed his mouth, apparently satisfied with the sound of my breath catching in my throat.

"Even better than the sound of you is the taste. You taste like desire. Passion." He quickly put his mouth back to use, this time balancing the sense of pleasure between my two breasts. However, he did not pay my left breast the manual treatment he had before. Instead, his hand crept once again to the smooth expanse of my stomach. . It slid more easily, as my every bead of sweat lubricated its journey. Using both hands, he unzipped my skirt, and pulled it down. This time it didn't slink down. My skirt fell to the earth with finality. My clothing was determined to let us have sex, and dammit, no cheap plaid skirt was going to prevent this.

When my underwear joined the pile of discarded clothing at my feet, Tom proved his mastery with his hands yet again. After so much therapuetic sex, it goes without saying that I was more than sexually charged. To be frank, my entire body(my vagina more than others) begged to have as much of Tom in me as possible. In a brief instant of nirvanic bliss, Tom slid two of his fingers inside my flushing flower, gently working my stiff clit with his thumb. When he pushed deeper into me, my mouth opened in a silent scream of pleasure. He removed his mouth from my chest once more. He stood up this time, to lean into my ear. "Relax love. This is nothing compared to what happens next." Tom withdrew his fingers, and slid his shirt off. Although it seemed unnecessary, something about the reveal made it enjoyable. He removed his robes and sweater-vest, tossing them around with abandon. He loosened the tie from his neck, and gave me a playful wink, keeping it one hand, just in case. . Finally, the shirt. Slowly, seductively, Tom began to undo each button, starting from the top.

Three Buttons. The muscles in Tom's chest were defined, but not bulky. His chest is smooth, yet firm.

Five buttons. His stomach is smooth, no hairs or scars haunting his body.

Seven Buttons:. Now, the faint outline of ab muscles show, although not defined and sticking out. His stomach is smooth and pale, like mine.

When the final buttons are undone, the shirt falls to the ground, forgotten amongst the rest of my clothing. I make a move to unbuckle his belt, but Tom knows this. He uses the tie in his left hand to stop my right. Next, he maneuvers and binds them together, letting the knot catch on the hook on the back of the door. He's strung me up, left me helpless. And I couldn't be happier. "The fun is in the progression, not the climax. Patience." He's chiding me, teasing me as he unzips his pants and drops them to the floor.

Here's where the lines of fantasy and reality blur. In my mind, Tom pushes against me, forces me still as his thick seven inch erection pushes its way deep into the hidden recesses of my vagina. In my mind, Tom does not waste any time with pleasantries, and goes at it like a wild dog after a raw steak. But what happens is better.

"Here's the part where you realize your fantasies will never be enough."

Tom unhooks the tie, and spins me around forcefully, almost dragging me by the knot keeping me in place. He replaces the tie, and I can see nothing but the door. Confident in the security of the tie, Tom uses both of his hands to bend my back, making my lower regions stick out in an almost ninety degree angle. His foot nudged mine, spreading my legs further apart, allowing better entrance. In a slow, steady movement, Tom penetrated me, reaching depths and levels that even I didn't know my vagina had. He continued slowly, moving in and out with a conscious movement, until he seemed to lose his abandon, gathering strength with each thrust. Next he moved in a strange way. He got me in what seemed to be a half nelson, applying no pressure whatsoever, just holding me like that. It allowed him better ground, a more stable way to keep inside my vagina. He curled his fingers in my hair and pulled. Yanking my head back as my eyes watered in pain and pleasure. My mouth hung open in the throws of passion, and I was constantly moaning, breathing, screaming my delight to the heavens, aware that none could hear me. He buried his face into my neck, letting my hair fall onto his face. He released one half of my body from his nelson, and wrapped his powerful arm around my stomach, making sure to keep his footing as his steady thrusts became stronger, more forceful, more... experienced. His tongue flitted across my neck, and every now and then he'd bite into my neck and shoulders, marking me as his own. Possessing me.

Eventually, although I can't say when, it became unbearable. I was rolling and riding the waves of prowess and awe that rolled off of Tom. I was savoring the feel of everything he was doing to me, for me, with me. "Oh Tom... Oh my God. Toooom. I... can't hold it. I... ah, ahhhh, oh my god yes!" In several bursts my orgasm flowed from me, engulfing my mind and body with a type of carnal pleasure that I'd never achieved alone. For what felt like hours I was wrapped in a beautiful cocoon of sexual exuberance, and nothing mattered. Not the bruises that existed in my mind, not the sweat rolling down my body. Nothing.

After five minutes of lying with my head against the door, I realized what really happened. Yes, Tom and I had had sex, but it was different. His acts were his own, but my movements existed alone. I moved about of my own volition, enjoying the pleasure he provided, without leaving any physical signs. I orgasmed as if in real sex, but I did no real work to bring this about. In short, I'd had the best sex of my life without putting any effort in.

I took several more seconds to process this information, before finally picking up all of my clothing and beginning the disdainful process of putting it back on. "That was amazing, Tom. Absolutely Amazing."

"I know. I can feel your thoughts, remember?"

I nodded, too tired to say(or even think) anything of value. I left the bathroom, thankful for the lack of an audience and plodded to the common room. After climbing through the portrait hole, I removed the ring and closed my thoughts, for fear of forcing the slide again. Without a shower, without removing my clothes, without even bothering to take off a single article of clothing, I passed gently into a deep sleep, happy to let the pleasure carry into my dreams and remind me that this(and so much more) was possible thanks to the ring.

Over the next three weeks, I would experiment more with the ring, and consequently my sexuality. For my personal comfort, the ring spent most of its time in a small jewelery box at the bottom of my trunk, where I'd pull it out as soon as I was about to go to bed, and Tom and I would most often have sex, or lay together and talk about the vast expanse of our experiences. With more time passing, Tom was able to convince me to wear the ring around school, with some precautions. It seemed entirely unlikely that any students would recognize the ring, let alone what it once was, so wearing it in the halls, amongst gaggles of students posed little to no threat. The same could not be said of the professors. It was unlikely that many would have been privy to the former Headmaster's previous plans, but there was still that chance, and this was a risk I simply couldn't afford. Therefore, when I was in class, the ring was nestled between my breasts on a silver chain I'd learned to create with a sewing needle. From time to time I'd risk wearing it in History of Magic, but never in Charms, and certainly not in Transfiguration. The only class I ever truly felt comfortable wearing the horcrux was in Defense Against the Dark Arts, secure in my belief that Mertenson had no prior knowledge of the horcruxes.

This would prove to be my undoing.

It happened one random rainy day in November. Last week, Professor Mertenson had assigned an essay on vampires, and now it was time to return them. "Alright class, now that enough time has passed, I hope you're well versed in battle with vampires. From the Nostferatu of legend, to the bi-facial bestial vampire, to the Sparkly Sun-drenched vampires that have become more popular with cross-species mating, you should now be able to identify them as threats and destroy. And I do mean destroy. At least, that's what I hope you learned after this essay. Please line up and hand them in." The silence quickly broke as students rummaged through their backpacks, pulling out rolls and rolls of parchment, hastily scratching in forgotten facts, and generally freaking out. Tom and I had spent at least two nights working on this essay before, and I was confident. It was only when I stood in line that I realized the horcrux was still on my finger. I paid it no mind, sure it would pass as a simple ring.

"Thank you Ms. Weasley." Professor Mertenson didn't look up as I handed him my paper. He looked at my hand, first focusing on the essay, and then letting his eyes rest on the ring, widening as they did. He then dropped my paper, as recognition set in. "I'm terribly sorry about that," he said, snapping out of his trance.

"it's quite alright. Here." At that moment, we both bent down, and his hand brushed mine, fingers lingering on the smooth silver circlet. I straightened up and he picked my essay from the ground. "Right then, back to your seat, Ms."

"Alright class. Now that I have your essays, I think we'll be moving on to our next section: how to spot cursed objects..." His gaze traveled around the room until he rested on me in the back corner.

"GINNY! CAST A SHIELD CHARM! NOW!" Before I could realize what was happening, I'd reached for my wand and mentally screamed the non-verbal Shield Charm Tom told me to. It was fortunate timing, as a second later, Professor Mertenson had removed his wand.

"_Tempo Petrificus." _Mertenson drew a circle with his wand and everything outside of my Shield Charm froze, stuck in time and unaware of the change.

"My my... you are quite the young witch, aren't you, Ms. Weasley? Well of course you are, otherwise you would have died in the battle." Professor Mertenson dropped his visage. His voice became cold and analytical, while the grin was wiped from his face and replaced with a weak scowl. His eyes took on the more shocking change. They were like that day in the hall, a power hidden just beneath a docile exterior.

"What is the meaning of this?" I stood up, backing away slowly. Mertenson flicked his wand and the locks clicked into place, sealing me in a room of frozen time. Trapped and helpless.

"That ring on your finger. It used to be Voldemort's horcrux, was it not?" He pointed at my right hand as I hastily tried to hide the ring in the folds of my robes. Not that it would have helped. Mertenson was a smart, powerful wizard, obviously not afraid to use Tom's alias in casual conversation.

"You can't have it. This is mine, and I will fight if I have to."

He chuckled deeply in his throat, advancing another step closer. "I don't want the ring." He took several more steps and was right in front of me. "_Imperio." _Immediately the sense of warm numbness covered me. I was vaguely aware of Tom's voice in my head, screaming at me to break his hold, but Mertenson was loud in my ears. "_Show me the ring."_ I couldn't ignore it. He released me from the curse in time to watch my eyes grow wide and hopeless. I came to and saw the ring, removed from my finger, resting gently in the palm of his hand. "I see..." he purred the words under his breath, concerned with nothing but the ring. "So it seems my grandfather was right..."

I was released just as he put the ring back on my finger. "Your grandfather? What does he have to do with this? With these horcruxes?"

"That is none of your concern, Child." Mertenson snapped. The sound of his voice silenced me, and I stared at him for a second longer.

"Whatever your grandfather said or didn't say. Whether it is my concern, and I think it is. All of that doesn't matter. I'm keeping the ring. I'm keeping Tom. And like I said, I'm willing to fight." I raised my wand, feeling safe that my Shield Charm had held.

"_Expelliarmus."_

It hadn't. I should have realized after he cast the Imperius Curse that my little bubble had popped under the strain of his first spell. At least it seemed the spell only affected you once. Now my wand laid at Mertenson's feet, and I was helpless. "I said I don't want the ring. You can keep the ring. You can keep Voldemort, for all I care. But the important thing is that my grandfather was right. There really is no way to kill a horcrux. At least not entirely." He began mumbling to himself under his breath, strange things I couldn't comprehend.

I cocked my head, aware that my life was in the hands of a crazy person. "You seem confused... Allow me to explain. Two hundred years ago, my grandfather, a man whose name is of little consequence to you now, had taken it upon himself to study horcruxes. Naturally, the ministry tried to shut him down for it, and the trauma to his soul was almost unbearable, but he realized several important factors. The horcrux does not disappear. Like a person, a horcrux can live on in memory, becoming a part of a the soul for whoever gets close to it. As is obviously the case with you. The horcrux cannot be completely killed. After it's become a horcrux, it will forever be a horcrux, but with less anchor in this realm. The wizard can't come back, but he can live on. This and so much more my grandfather learned about these things, wretched things they were thought to be, but he was disgraced by the wizarding world, left to toil in squalor and ridicule. Now I know he's right, and you've proven this."

_Run Ginny. He's too powerful, and who knows what he'll do. _

Tom and common sense were right, but this was entirely too important. If a horcrux was bonded to the soul of a host, then I could create a horcrux with it. After all, Tom was part of my soul, and as such I could tear him apart from it. I could put Tom in a new item. Separate our consciences. But this intimacy would be lost. It was difficult.

"Theoretically, I could put Tom's soul into a separate body. He is bonded to my soul, so all I'd have to do is rip him from it..."

Mertenson's eyes grew wide at the revelation. "You really _are _a gifted witch. It's possible, but tearing your soul is tricky. Let alone creating a horcrux." He studied me carefully, though distantly. "Tom could have a new body, independent of you."

But I was ahead of him. More than an item, I could turn a living body into a horcrux, as Voldemort had done with Nagini. And Harry.

"Professor... If a horcrux can be made of an inanimate object, what's to stop a horcrux from filling a vacant body?" Instead of answering my question, Mertenson glanced around the room.

"Enough. Even with time in this state, this conversation is risky. Return later, and we'll discuss this."

I returned to my seat, Mertenson to the head of the class, and he ended the spell. "Alright, everybody. Turn to page 517 in your textbooks, and let's begin, shall we?" The old professor was back, and Tom was able to speak freely. He voiced concerns half-heartedly, fully aware of what my train of thought meant for him. A real body.

After class, I stayed behind, and waited as the professor cast several spells to ward off intruders. "To answer your previous question, it's entirely possible. Grandfather never got to that point of research. If you can separate the souls of the two beings, it's possible to transfer the soul into another container, but I don't know if that'd work on a corpse."

I contemplated everything he'd said. 'Does it seem like a viable option? Would you be willing to risk it?'

Tom's answer was immediate: _There is a way to mend the soul, should this go wrong. It might be painful, but you'll be fine. I'm sure. I'd be happier with a physical body, but ultimately the choice is yours. _

With his testimony, I was able to make my decision. "Professor Mertenson. Show me how to make a horcrux. I'm giving Tom a body."

"Oh really?" His surprise was genuine, eyebrows arched in curiosity and interest. "Do you have a body in mind?"

My reply was instant. The name popping to mind faster than logic would allow me to consider.

"Harry Potter."


	7. For All Appearances

I want to say that Professor Mertenson was shocked. I want to say he was curious. Hell, I want to say that his eyes widened a little when I told him I planned to turn Harry Potter. But he didn't. Professor Mertenson leaned back against his desk, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes in thought. The surprise of me making a dead body into a living one was less shocking than whom I was turning into a horcrux.

"Very well," he said, after five minutes, "but this means I'll have to show you how. Once Tom's been ripped from your soul, you won't be able to communicate with him for some time." He looked at me with the same coldly analytical expression he gave the horcrux. "I'll give you a month to think it through. You'll come to me in four weeks' time to give me your answer, and I'll either show you how to make a horcrux, or modify your memory. I will show you how to make a horcrux just before the Winter Break. For now, you may go."

When I left the classroom, my head was abuzz with thoughts. Soon Tom would be out of my head, and he'd have a physical, more fulfilling body. Of course, he'd still look like Harry, but the appearance could easily change; as long as Tom didn't turn into the puppy dog that I've been forced to call "my boyfriend," our relationship would be perfect. Still, this decision wasn't solely mine.

'What do you think of this, Tom?'

His response didn't come in words, but a sharp rush of joy and excitement, as well as a few mental images of the things he'd do once he had a body. My own image of him, jumping up and down like a school girl who'd just been asked out by her upperclassman crush flitted through my mind and I couldn't possibly suppress the massive grin on my face. His joy was contagious.

_I'm going to have a body! A real body! Not some shody vessel of flesh like the last one! I'll have a nose! I'll be able to tan! I'LL HAVE HAIR! _On and on he went, describing all the things he could do with this body that he couldn't with the last, and it became apparent that there was no way out of this. Not that I wanted one.

In the four weeks that passed until my lesson, the school had changed drastically. In almost no time at all, the windy November gave way to a blizzard that fell with the change to December. The castle donned its usual festive decorations, and on December 12th, when Professor Mertenson was to teach me how to make a horcrux, everybody was anxious to leave for the holidays. At six o'clock I knocked on his office door. "Come in," he beckoned. I pushed the door open, opening without a noise.

"Are you sure of your choice, Ms. Weasley?"

"Sure the moment I stepped out of this office. Now show me how to make the horcrux."

"Very well." Professor Mertenson walked behind his desk. Heaving, he lifted a trunk onto the desktop, letting it fall with a resounding thud.

"There are two steps to creating a horcrux. First, you must tear your soul. There are many who have killed before, and their souls have remained in tact. This is because they've gone through one of the most painful processes in humanity:remorse. After you've killed, you cannot think about it. You cannot feel for it afterward. The death has to be clean and cold. The second part is the ritual. If you haven't separated your soul properly, the ritual will rebound and kill you. Voldemort, who slaughtered countless innocents and felt not a shred of remorse, was adept at being clean and cold, but if you're too weak, you will die. You and Tom."

There was nothing I could say. I looked at Mertenson, the full extent of his words sinking in. Nothing in me revolted at the thought of taking a life, no little voice saying "this is wrong," not a peep from Jiminy Cricket.

"Are you sure you can continue?"  
>When I nodded, Mertenson opened the trunk, and pulled an unconscious man from its depths. His hair was stringy and blond, his round face scarred and worn by fierce battle. Despite the fresh cuts and blasts in his body, the man was still breathing. "This man is of no consequence. <em>Avada Kedavra." <em>The breathing stopped, and Mertenson then began showing me how to turn one of his books into a horcrux.

At the end of the lesson, my brain was full to bursting. I'd just witnessed the creation of a horcrux, been taught step-by-step how to recreate this process, and watched the physical change the process took in Mertenson("As Tom is a part of your mind, you will not change physically," reassuring me as he patted my shoulder with pale hands). Over all, it was a fairly simple process, but when I considered what this meant I realized why this was so forbidden. This didn't stop me, however.

School was to be let out in three days, and at that time, Harry and I were to go to Romania to visit Charlie. The term ended, and I boarded the Knight Bus to meet Harry at King's Cross. When the great purple bus finally slammed to a halt(the fifth in as many minutes), the sounds of London traffic and holiday travelers filled my ears. I looked around anxiously for Harry.

"Just one more day and I'll have a body," Tom said, standing in front of me. Since Mertenson recognized the ring, I hadn't taken it off. Knowing that Tom could be physical in such little time had made me more willing to wear it in public, as a way to prepare for events to come. I'd grown accustomed to Tom's more substantial presence, but was jolted from this reality by a simple fact: Harry destroyed the horcrux, he'd know I was wearing it. I slipped the ring off of my finger, and hid it deep in the pocket of my jeans. Although Tom seemed surly about this development, he understood.

Finally, after what seemed ages, Harry appeared down the street from the station. Spotting me, he ran at full sprint towards me. When he reached me, winded and slightly sweaty, he pulled me close and I tried my best to not act disgusted. When he released me again, he lapped at my cheeks in his signature "excited-dog" style of kissing.

"Telling you I missed you would be an understatement," he cooed into my ear, pulling me more tightly against him. I gingerly held him back, thankful that the contact had given Tom his usual form.

"I wish you never had to leave me like that again." This double-talk thing was getting more helpful with each day. Harry surveyed me up and down, as though trying to memorize me while looking for any slight changes.

"Right. Well, the good news is that we'll be gone soon. Are you excited? I certainly am." With this, he put his arm around my shoulder, and I around his waist. We turned around and walked out of the station, onto the busy streets of London. We walked for another ten minutes, until we turned down an alley out of site. "Are you ready, dear?" Before I could answer, he turned on the spot and the familiar squeezing sensation took me. Everything turned black for a second and my eardrums popped. Another second and we were standing on terra firma yet again. There was nothing but the sound of waves and the chill air of December on the beach.

"There's supposed to be a village not too far from here. We'll stay in an inn for the night and board a ferry across the channel in the morning." We trudged up the beach.

"Doesn't it remind you of our first date?" Unbidden, the memories came back, the awkward silences, the tedium. I rolled my eyes but answered dutifully, "yes, and how beautifully perfect everything was." Somewhere behind me, Tom's gagging noises filled my ears. I stifled a laugh.

"And I've loved you more and more since." He looked at me, his face filled with adoration. On someone else it could have been heartbreaking, but my pulse was running too fast to accept it. While he was content to relax and spend this vacation being together, I was eager to be rid of him in the most permanent of fashions. Finally, a small ruddy town came into sight. The lights of all the houses were on, obscured by curtains drawn closely to ward off the cold. Several chimneys were spewing smoke, and the some lights flickered with the gentle movements of a warm fire. We walked further down the main street to stop at an inn that looked remarkably like the Three Broomsticks. The high bar, decorated as it was with garlands of holly and mistletoe, gleamed in the flicker of a roaring fire that kept the lower levels warm and toasty. All around the tavern, house elves dressed as Father Christmas ran to serve the multitude of visitors. The drink and Christmas spirit had infected them all, making the tavern warm and lively.

"Hermione told me about this place. One of the few non-muggle inhabited places this far along the coast," Harry whispered into my ear. We walked to the bar, where a portly man greeted Harry and me eagerly. "Your Room key, sir? Room Seven." He slid a large brass key to Harry, who grabbed it and spun it on his finger. He muttered a quick "thank you" and escorted me upstairs. The room upstairs was large and warm, adorned with nothing but a bedside table and a single large bed.

"We've got to be up early for the ferry, so shall we retire for the evening?" Harry draped his arms around me, kissing my neck gently. I could feel his erection pressing against my lower back, and moved forward a little.

"well, as you said, we have to be up early for the ferry." I jumped into bed, changing into my bed clothes with a gentle sweep of my wand. Another sweep and the lights went out. Seconds later, Harry crawled into bed next to me, resting his arm across my stomach.

Within seconds Harry was asleep, his gentle snoring buzzing in my ear. I pointed my wand at his arm. "_Wingardium Leviosa_." His hand rose gently into the air and I freed myself, putting his hand back down on top of the pillow I'd just been on. As quietly as I could, I crept to my luggage and grabbed two things I'd pocketed before leaving Hogwarts: a vial of the Draught of the Living Dead and a short silver knife. With an eye dropper, I slid two drops into his mouth to ensure that he wouldn't wake up while I went about my plans.

_Are you sure you're ready for this? _Tom's concern was evident, but I'd been looking forward to this moment for a month. I pointed my wand at Harry's sleeping form. "_Mobilicorpus." _With a flash of blue-green light, Harry disappeared, magically transported miles away to a place I'd chosen just for this moment. I turned on the spot and Apparated to a place Harry had visited so many times in his nightmares.

The graveyard was covered in half a foot of snow, but it bore the unmistakable signs of Harry's battle with Lord Voldemort upon his resurrection. Several tombstones were blown to smithereens by spells cast long ago, and the gravestone of Tom Riddle Sr. still had bits of rope stuck to the cross on top. Behind a large gravestone topped by a crying angel, Harry laid still and silent. "_Incarcerous." _Large black ropes shot from my wand, wrapping themselves around Harry's hands and tying him to the gravestone of Tom Riddle Sr. I hid behind an unmarked gravestone, and pointed my wand at Harry. "_Rennervate." _

Now, Harry began to stir, his eyes flowing open as he looked around the graveyard. "Whermi? Whozzur?" He said, sleepily. I stiffled a laugh, hidden behind a gravestone. Finally, recognition seemed to don on him, as he turned every way and recognized the graveyard for what it was. When the fear grew stronger, I stepped from behind the gravestone, and strode towards him.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it Harry?" My voice was low, gentle. Harry was my prey, trapped and defenseless, and I planned on toying with him until the very end.

"Ginny? What... what's going on? Why are we here? How?" A slew of questions burst from his mouth, and with each syllable his eyes grew larger and more terrified. After what felt like hours, I held up my hand to silence him.

"Harry..." I looked at him comfortingly, "You're going to die here. Because I want you dead more than anything." His jaw went slack and his eyes began to water.

"You're... you've got to be kidding. Why?" He looked into my eyes, searching for some hint of a joke. I involuntarily smiled, a cold and merciless sneer, really. I stepped forward, my wand pointed at his chest. The only things that registered were shock and anger, stunning his tongue into silence. He looked from the ropes that held him tight, to my wand, to my face. He looked into my eyes once more and found his voice.

"How could you do this to me? I thought you loved me!"

I laughed, loud and cold. "Me? Love you?" I spat back, "No, never you. The bit of Tom inside of you, but never you. On that note, you were terribly mistaken."

His body began to shake violently, silent sobs jerking his entire body, while he continued to mutter "why" under his breath.

"Oh poor Harry," I said sarcastically, "The one woman in this world you thought ever loved you has betrayed you. What ever shall you do? Don't worry, you won't have to live with the pain for much longer."

_Do it now, Ginny. Get on with it. _Tom was getting impatient, but I was having fun.

Harry hung his head, his tears melting little holes into the snow.

"Look at me, Potter." But he didn't. He continued to stare at the ground, intent on not facing me.

"_Imperio." _Immediately, I felt a tendril of my thoughts leave through my wand into his mind, forcing him to submit to me. "_Look at me, Harry." _He raised is head, his eyes dull with the effect of the spell. I released him, and he continued to struggle, but this time unable to look away. I took several steps forward. He thrashed against his restraints with renewed vigor. When I was inches away, I kissed him gently on the lips, and he stopped thrashing. I pulled away then. "Good-bye Harry."

I pointed my wand at his heart, but this time he didn't fight. He simply cried, several tears rolling down his face and into the snow. "_Avada Kedavra." _A flash of green light reflected on the snow, blinding me. My vision returned and he was dead. His body had stopped shuddering, his tears fell no more, and the light behind those green eyes was forever gone.

'Tom?' He didn't answer. I tried again, and still no response. It went perfectly.

I smiled savagely as joy ran through my every vein. I pulled the knife from an inner pocket and released Harry's corpse from the tombstone. It slid to the ground with a soft crunch against the snow. It was time for the ritual.

With a wave of my wand, I melted the snow around us, clearing a good six feet for what was to happen next. When the snow was gone, I put the tip of my wand to the ground and began to draw the circle of ruins around Harry's body that Mertenson had showed me: "In Essence Divided." When the last ruin was finished, the entire circle began to glow a deep, ominous red. The light pulsed gently and I walked into the circle. I put the silver blade of my knife against the palm of my left hand.

"Of my body and self-" I slashed the blade, blood gushing from the wound "-I give this object-" I dipped my wand in the blood and placed a dot on both of Harry's cheeks, his nose, and on top of his scar "-all properties of my soul." I connected all of the dots, creating a triangle on the outside, and three lines leading to the center dot. When the last line was connected everything went dark. My vision flickered, and the circle of light pulsed more powerfully. It felt as though a dragon's claw was forcing itself into my chest. The claw gripped and yanked at something deep inside me. With one more jerk, the claw pulled away and I collapsed.

I came to seconds later when someone smacked my face.

"Ginny, wake up." The voice was frantic, pleading. I opened my eyes a fraction of an inch, and a pair of green eyes floated past my field of vision. My eyes snapped open and I backed away. Harry was on his knees.

"How... HOW? I KILLED YOU!"

He stood up and reached for his wand, hidden behind the gravestone I'd hidden behind before. With a flick I was yanked to my feet. Another flick and I was pulled towards him. "You killed Potter," He said cooly. Despite appearances, the voice that came from his mouth was nothing like Harry's. It was dark, calm, controlled. He wrapped one arm around my waist, pulling me closely and kissing me. It was more skillful than anything Harry was capable of, and more real than anything I'd felt with Tom.

"You brought me back to life." He turned on the spot and we Apparated back to the room. He pushed me on the bed, and crawled on top of me. "And it feels good to be back."

That night, we had sex. Physical sex. And I was relieved to realize this was no dream.

So that's my story. The Harry everyone seems to know is no more Harry than I am. Over the years, Tom has masqueraded around as Harry Potter, but was always Tom to me. Over time, his true nature would come out and people would realize that the Harry Potter they once knew has changed so much in the years they'd known him, blaming it on late changes because of the battle, but this is not the case. For all appearances, Harry still walks among the living. But Harry Potter is no more.


End file.
